MISSISSIPPI
When I was fourteen years old,
I started off down a bumpy road,
just a kid, the world was big,
and time was slow.
When I was sixteen years old,
I got lost in the rock and roll,
all of my dreams grew tumbleweeds,
and rolled on home.
But now I'm asking for a little extra time,
to turn back the clock and take a little rewind,
and I’d say…
Take my heart and go away,
I don't need it,
ain't got nothing more to say,
so I'm leaving,
Tennessee is calling my name.
Oh, I've spent way too many nights,
just crying, so if I say I want you back,
I'm lying,
bigger dreams are coming my way.
And when I’m floating down the Mississippi,
I'll say, Mister, you're gonna miss me…
when I'm gone.
And on the day I turned eighteen,
I cried on my back porch swing,
sinking suns, mascara runs,
the adult life just ain't fun.
But now I'm asking for a little extra time,
to say the things that were really on my mind,
and I'd say…
Take my heart and go away,
I don't need it,
ain't got nothing more to say,
so I'm leaving,
Tennessee is calling my name.
Oh, cause I've spent way too many nights,
just crying,
so if I say I want you back,
I'm lying,
bigger dreams are coming my way.
And when I’m floating down the Mississippi,
I'll say, Mister, you're gonna miss me…
And you can chase me out to Louisiana, Oklahoma, Alabama,
if you think that I can’t do this on my own.
And if you try to tell me I can’t handle all the critics and the scandals,
I won’t be afraid to tip your boat.
So take my heart and go away,
I don't need it,
ain't got nothing more to say,
so I'm leaving,
Tennessee is calling my name.
Oh, I've spent way too many nights,
just crying,
so if I say I want you back,
I'm lying,
bigger dreams are coming my way.
And when I’m floating down the Mississippi,
I'll say, Mister, you're gonna miss me…
when I'm gone.
© Kathryn Layne Stedelbauer | All Rights Reserved
SMALL TOWN BALLAD
There are places that never make it onto movie screens,
where the downtown streets were built in ’55,
and the rumors run faster than the boys track team,
and it ain’t much more than a couple of blocks wide.
She is a descendent of a small town beauty queen,
and her Momma never dares let her forget,
his dad punched his dad back when they were in high school,
and nothing has been the same since then.
And the train rolls in each morning,
and carries all the dreamers away.
And the barflies keep on pouring,
tapping stories into each of their ashtrays.
The ladies in the beauty shop could publish a book,
on everything that happens in this town,
and you could drown all of your secrets in the creek out by the woods,
and by morning they’d wash up on your front lawn.
And the kids sing holy, holy out into the congregation,
and everyone gives a little more than they have,
and all the high school girls are waiting on their invitation,
to go out on Friday night with the quarterback.
And the train rolls in each morning,
and carries all the dreamers away.
And the barflies keep on pouring,
tapping stories into each of their ashtrays.
And if you hang around until the moon is full and bright,
you might hear the banjo player play his song.
The notes shake all the rafters and the single traffic light,
in the town that never seems to move on…
Because the train rolls in each morning,
and carries all the dreamers away.
And the barflies keep on pouring,
tapping stories into each of their ashtrays.
And the train keeps on rollin’…
© Kathryn Layne Stedelbauer | All Rights Reserved
She’s a platinum blonde,
but not by God’s intentions,
and Tom and Judy ain’t really in love,
‘cause I see her in the beauty shop twice a month,
and couple’s therapy ain’t doing it’s job.
Well they say the Preacher lost all of his money,
bettin’ on a horse that came in number three,
and last week I heard that Frank and Kelly finally broke up, waiting in the checkout line at the Dollar Tree.
And all these rumors,
old and faithful friends,
setting free the he-said-she-saids just like cattle from a pen,
but when these rumors,
let their tongues hang loose,
you can’t help but wonder what they’re sayin’ ‘bout you.
Momma always taught you not gossip,
she said that was only for the magazines,
and if you can’t say nothin’ kind don’t say nothin’ at all,
but that’s just not everyone’s philosophy.
Because all these rumors,
old and faithful friends,
setting free the he-said-she-saids like an angry nesting hen,
but when these rumors,
let their tongues hang loose,
you can’t help but wonder what they’re sayin’ ‘bout you .
And watch what you say ‘cause someone might just bury with it,
in this town, word tends to travel quick…
‘cause all these rumors,
old and faithful friends,
setting free the he-said-she-saids just like cattle from a pen,
but when these rumors,
let their tongues hang loose,
you can’t help but wonder what they’re sayin’ ‘bout you…
You can’t help but wonder what they’re sayin’ ‘bout you.
© Kathryn Layne Stedelbauer | All Rights Reserved
Well the thing about this life,
is everybody gets a scratch,
out there on the football field ‘til you can’t even catch…
and your Momma just can’t wait,
until you come back home,
in the evening.
And the thing about this town,
is everybody stays in touch,
and now you’ve got the sheriff asking you,
if you’ve had a bit too much…
and you go to church on Sunday,
and you look the Preacher straight in the eye,
and to your surprise,
he looks at you and says…
Wine-colored wishes,
they don’t get ya too far,
you just sit and count your blessings,
in the corner of a bar…
and Jesus didn’t drink tequila,
so you’ve got no excuse,
'cause there’s more to life than living like,
you don’t know the truth.
And he said amen, and hallelujah...
I know there’s nothing wrong,
with using up the time you’ve got,
having fun ‘til 3am in the Foodland parking lot,
but now the world’s a little tipsy,
so the neon lights guide your path home,
and so it goes…
And everybody’s got a conscience,
but still most of us forget,
that the devil’s in the details,
and you’re about to write his check…
So you search for greener pastures,
and you find yourself in a one-bed motel room,
you put your records on,
and you can hear them sing…
Wine-colored wishes,
they don’t get ya too far,
you just sit and count your blessings,
in the corner of a bar…
and Jesus didn’t drink to tequila,
so you’ve got no excuse,
'cause there’s more to life than living like,
you don’t know the truth.
And they sang amen, and hallelujah...
Amen, amen…
And midnight likes to tell us,
all sorts of pretty lies,
but there’s nothing quite as honest as the look inside her eyes,
when you kiss your little baby,
for the very first time… in a while,
and you sing...
Wine-colored wishes,
they don’t get ya too far,
you just sit and count your blessings,
in the corner of a bar…
and Jesus didn’t drink to tequila,
so you’ve got no excuse,
'cause there’s more to life than living like,
you don’t know the truth...
And you sing amen, and hallelujah...
Hallelujah…
© Kathryn Layne Stedelbauer | All Rights Reserved